How Am I Supposed to Pretend I Don't Want to See You Again?
by SelfProclaimedFangirlKate
Summary: COMPLETE. When Regina gets herself kicked out of Harvard and has to return to her childhood home to start her senior year at Storybrooke College, she thinks her life is over. One day an agonizingly beautiful blonde waltzes into her life, and maybe things won't be that bad after all…or will she just make things even worse? AU professor/student. SQ only/no dudes at all in this one :)
1. I, II, III

**A/N:** I know folks are waiting for the final update to _A New Exploration_ , and I am working on it, but I'm struggling with getting it to be exactly what I want because I've poured my heart and soul into it for over a year and 200k+ words now. I want it to be perfect. (And maybe I am not totally ready to let those two go). That said, I distracted myself by writing this in the interim. I've avoided writing and teacher/student fics since I'm a professor and it makes me squirm a bit (though I love reading them, go figure), but I had an idea I couldn't stop thinking about and didn't totally creep me out. I also haven't seen many (if any?) where Emma is in the teacher role, so I wanted to take a stab at it, along with a new writing format that I wanted to play with.

This is also the first story in what was going to be an anthology of unrelated SQ oneshots/short fics that are all inspired by song titles or lyrics. I was going to post them as standalone chapters in one long ongoing fic, but when I surveyed the SQ FB group, they said they preferred fics to be posted individually, so I'm going with that option. The title of this fic is from Vampire Weekend's "Campus" (modified just a bit).

This is already 100% written and ready to go. It was originally going to be a 15k word one shot. But, I wrote it in little mini-sections/vignettes and I realized that I ended up with 12 in total. It turns out every third section is a natural breaking point, so I'm dividing it into four chapters that I will post over the next few days. If you want to wait until it's completely done, feel free to follow and then wait until it gets marked complete with the fourth chapter at some point this week (most likely Wednesday).

I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

 **I.**

Regina is staring down the lavender duvet cover as though it deeply offends her. _I cannot believe this is my life now_ , she thinks as she looks around her childhood bedroom, her lip curling as she notices that her beloved framed Ziggy Stardust poster, signed by Bowie himself, no longer graces the far wall across from her bed. She makes a mental note to ask her mother what she did with it, because it's not only a treasured item from a simpler time in her life, but it's also immensely valuable now that the genius artist has passed away. She then drops the box in her hands on the single bed, not caring that she's probably getting dirt on the hideously pale fabric. It's the least of her concerns.

Yes, this is her childhood bedroom, but it feels foreign to her. It's never been "home." That poster and a few other prized possessions were the only sources of comfort during the limited time she had spent there as a teenager, and those are all gone, it seems. It feels like she's standing in the bedroom of a stranger.

And perhaps she is. After all, she hasn't spent more than a few dozen nights in this room after she went off to boarding school in Connecticut at the age of 14. She would occasionally come home for a long weekend, but holidays and school breaks were often spent at one of their other homes — either their cabin in Aspen during the winter months for skiing, or their summer house in Nantucket. One summer they even spent traveling across Europe, not spending more than four collective days of the summer break stateside.

But, that is all changing. At the age of 21, just six months shy of her twenty-second birthday, Regina is returning to her childhood bedroom, feeling like a prisoner and a failure. After being forced to leave Harvard at the end of her junior year, she is returning to her home in Storybrooke, Maine with her tail between her legs. She had been allowed to finish out her summer internship in Boston, as it wasn't tied to her coursework or student status at Harvard. But as soon as she turned over her intern ID badge to the front desk staff, her unhappy parents were standing outside of One Financial Center to escort her back to the apartment they had purchased for her after her freshman year. They had to ensure she would return to Storybrooke as planned.

She sighs as she sits down on the bed, trying not to admit that it is quite comfortable. Now, someone else is sleeping in her bedroom back in Boston (her parents decided to rent it out instead of selling it, as it's a trendy neighborhood and a good investment, so it's not a total loss for them. In fact, they're making money from her failure since they now have the rental income.) The furniture she had bought for her apartment is now sitting in a storage unit somewhere in Boston, mocking her with hopes of returning for it one day. But for now, she's surrounded by pastel textiles and art on the walls that she doesn't recognize, but knows is likely expensive given her mother's taste. But worst of all, after spending the majority of the past seven years living on her own, she's back under her parents' roof. And they've made it clear that they have high expectations and tight restrictions, as they won't tolerate her being a disappointment to their family name any longer.

"Regina! Mary-Margaret! It's time for dinner," Cora Blanchard's voice calls from downstairs, echoing throughout the two-story foyer.

"Coming, Mother," she calls back, forcing herself off the bed and walking down the hallway, passing her stepsister's bedroom. She hears the younger girl's voice say _Sorry, David, I'll call you back later_ , as she walks by the open door.

Regina makes it down three steps before she hears her stepsister quickly catch up to her. "Regina, are you settling back in?"

"Sure," she replies, willing the chipper woman to stop talking.

"Oh, that's great! I'm so excited we'll be going to school together this fall. I mean, I'll be living in the res hall, of course, but it will be great to be on the same campus!" she continues, either failing to pick up on Regina's complete disinterest in the topic or choosing to ignore it.

"Uh huh," Regina grunts as they make their way into the dining room, sitting down on either side of the oversized table.

Regina goes to pick up the bowl of roasted potatoes but her mother fixes her with a strong glare, causing her to pull her hand back. "I know it's been awhile, dear, but we say grace before we eat in this house," Cora scolds.

"Of course. How could I forget," Regina deadpans, dropping her hands into her lap and waiting for someone to begin the charade. Their family is the farthest thing there is from religious, but she finds their need to conform to a wholesome family image entertaining, if nothing else.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Cora asks knowingly.

Regina offers a simple, "No, thank you," in response.

"Go ahead, Leopold," Cora says, looking across the table to her husband.

"O bless us, O Lord…" he begins, but Regina quickly tunes him out, managing to join in for the "Amen" at the end just in time to avoid another scolding from her mother.

"So, Mary-Margaret, are you excited to move into the residence hall tomorrow?" Cora asks her stepdaughter as she passes her the dish of green bean almondine.

"Oh, yes. I'm so excited. My roommate seems super nice, at least from what I could gather from her Facebook and our text conversations. I think Arendelle Hall will be amazing."

"Arendelle? You're living in the all girl's dorm?" Regina asks, the incredulous lilt to her voice not unnoticed by anyone at the table. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Mary-Margaret confirms. "It's not like I'm going to worry about dating. David will be at University of New England, so we'll be able to visit each other. And besides, I'm there to study, not socialize."

Regina shakes her head and chuckles under her breath.

"Regina, will you be helping us move Mary-Margaret into her new room tomorrow?" Leopold asks, changing the subject.

"I think I'll pass," she says. "I still need to get unpacked and settled since classes start next week. And I want to get registered for classes while there are still some decent options available."

"All the more reason for you to come to campus with us, dear," Cora points out.

"This isn't 1990, Mother. I can do all that online. I don't need to go meet with an advisor in-person. I already emailed him and know what I need to take. And no offense, but I really do not want to be seen with you anywhere in town, let alone on campus."

Being forced to leave Harvard and return to her small hometown in Maine to live with her parents is horrifying, but it isn't the most embarrassing part of Regina's situation. No, the reason that she finds her circumstance so utterly humiliating is because of who her parents are. As a senior, Regina is transferring to Storybrooke College, a small liberal arts college hidden along the coast of Maine. The Storybrooke College campus is a very close-knit community, and the college President, one Leopold Blanchard, is a beloved and prominent figurehead on campus. His wife, Cora Blanchard, is the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, and a woman known for not only her academic rigor and tough exterior, but also her dry sense of humor. Students either love or hate her, depending on whether they can hold their own in her demanding psychology seminars.

Having spent the first 14 years of her life in Storybrooke, where her mother and stepfather gradually worked their way up the college administration hierarchy, Regina knows everything there is to know about the small school. That includes the fact that if anyone finds out who she is, any hope of having a somewhat salvageable senior year will be over. Her parents had always expected her to attend Storybrooke College for her education, but she had been determined to separate herself from her family's legacy — Leopold's great-great-grandfather had been one of the founders of the college in the mid-1800s, and every generation thereafter attended the school for their undergraduate studies. Leopold is the third Blanchard to serve as College President, and a few cousins have served in other roles throughout the institution — Leopold's brother had just been appointed to the Board of Trustees the previous year. Regina had made getting into Harvard her top priority in high school, as she knew that it would be the only way out of Storybrooke. Her family strives for perfection, and no one would deny her the opportunity to go to Harvard if she got in. So, she had made that her goal, and she had succeeded.

But, she had managed to fuck it up near the end of her college career, and now her parents will finally be getting their wish for her to attend their precious school. And Regina will be left with a consolation prize in the form of a diploma bought by her family to commemorate how she managed to mess up everything good in her life. Regina's only hope is that the decision she made when she was 18, a legal name change back to her father's surname of Mills to honor the man that raised her until his untimely death when she was three, will allow her to pass as a normal student on campus. She doesn't plan on speaking to anyone unless it's required for an assignment, and she will never tell anyone where she lives, lest they realize it's large mansion owned by the College and designated for the president and his family. But, just because she's not planning on hitting the crew or lacrosse team house parties every night doesn't mean that she wants to be a social pariah, labeled as the president's stepdaughter. Yes, her parents are well-liked by students, but she knows that if the truth gets out, she will be treated like more of an outcast than she already feels.

"Stop being so overdramatic, Regina," Cora finally says, bringing Regina back to the present moment, pulling her out of her inclination to wallow in self-pity. "It doesn't matter if people know you're our daughter. You're a senior, dear, you're not here to make friends. You're here to graduate and not be an embarrassment to our family any more. I don't care if being our child will destroy your social life. You've clearly proven you're not responsible enough to have one anyway, if your Harvard record is any indication."

Regina says nothing, just spears a red potato with her fork as she stares down at her plate.

"Roast beef, Regina?" Leopold asks as she passes her the plate.

"I've been a vegetarian for five years."

"Right," he says, setting the dish of meat back down on the table.

"I'll take some, Dad," Mary-Margaret says with a smile, causing Regina to roll her eyes.

"May I be excused now?" Regina asks, pushing her chair back from the table before she even gets a response.

"I suppose," Cora replies.

"Thank you," she stands and folds the cloth napkin that had been in her lap, placing it next her dish. "I'll be in my room."

As Regina makes her way up the stairs to lock herself in her bedroom prison, she can't help but think, _it's going to be a long year_.

* * *

 **II.**

Regina had thought that having Mary-Margaret out of the house may make things a little less painful, as the woman's constant optimism constantly grated on every fiber of Regina's being. But, she had been wrong. Now with the youngest daughter out of the house, all of Cora and Leopold's attention is focused on Regina, and she can't take it: the micromanaging, the constant scrutiny, the 'where are you going, Regina?' and the 'who are you talking to, Regina?' questions…It's only been one week, and she's losing her mind.

As she wakes up that Tuesday morning for the first day of class, she's actually excited. She had been dreading being back in class, but now a day full of classes and hiding in the library between her morning and afternoon lectures seems like a lovely respite from the hell that has become her life.

"Are you ready for your first day?" Cora asks as Regina enters the kitchen and grabs a banana from the bowl on the center of the oversized island.

"Yes," is all that she replies. "I'm going to head over early so I can get coffee and a good parking spot. I will see you tonight."

Before her mother can protest or offer to drive her herself, Regina grabs the keys to her Mercedes Benz SL Roadster and heads to the garage, frowning as she realizes she'll need to put the top of the car up since it's raining.

* * *

 **III.**

Regina finds the seminar room relatively easily in the social sciences building, as Storybrooke College is not particularly grand in scale — five main academic buildings, a few residence halls, a library with a game room and small coffee cart in the basement that is the college's attempt at a student union, and a handful of old mansions serving as administrative offices is all there is to it. The campus itself is less than a quarter square mile, which is all that's needed for the 1500 undergraduate and 200 graduate students who attend.

As she walks into the classroom, she sighs. She had expected this, but seeing it in person just confirms the annoying turn her life has taken. She's surrounded by freshmen. The 100-level social inequality seminar is typically a first-semester freshman course, as it meets the diversity credit requirement students are required to fulfill their first year at the college. As a transfer student, though, Regina still needs to complete it. And unfortunately, by the time Regina had been able to register for courses, all the upper-division courses that would meet the diversity requirement were at maximum capacity. So, she slides into a seat in the back corner of the room, hoping she can get by relatively unnoticed. Perhaps being in a class of excited freshmen will mean they'll do all the talking so she won't have to participate. She can only hope.

She doesn't bother to take out her earbuds, preferring to listen to Joni Mitchell rather than the chatter around her from overzealous underclassmen. They're all the same: the 'oh my God I can't believe it's the first day of college' and the 'I hope the professor isn't too strict' comments bore her. She barely sees the flash of blonde in her periphery as a woman enters from the back door of the seminar room, right next to where Regina is sitting. She glances up momentarily, mainly because of the breeze she had felt as the woman rushed by her. She looks to be around Regina's age, maybe a year or two older at most. Definitely not a freshman. Regina hopes that maybe this means she won't be the only upperclassman in the course, and maybe her own life will seem less pathetic. But her hopes are quickly deflated as the woman walks past the front row of seats and heads to the desk at the front of the room, depositing her olive green canvas messenger bag on top of the desk and taking out a laptop, setting it on the lectern at the front of the room.

 _Okay, so definitely not a student, then. Great,_ Regina thinks. She casts her eyes back down to her phone, replying to a text from her friend Kathryn, who is still back in Cambridge and preparing to start her senior year the next week. Her heart aches for the life and friends she left behind in Massachusetts.

She feels the student next to her start shuffling in his chair, which captures her attention. She looks up and sees several pairs of eyes on her, staring at her expectantly, including the blonde she now knows to be the professor. She pulls out her earbuds and sits up straight. "Sorry."

"As I was saying, let's get started," the blonde says as she comes around the front of the podium, opting to lean back against the front edge of the desk instead. "My name is Emma Swan, and I'll be teaching your seminar this semester. I'm a second-year graduate student in the MA in sociology program here. This is not my first time teaching a college course, so don't think that I'll go easy on you or that you can get away with anything because I'm new. This isn't my first rodeo."

Regina holds back an eye roll as a few freshmen fake a laugh, their nerves still getting the better of them.

"I expect you to come to class every day. Because of the seminar nature of this course, you'll miss a lot of rich discussion if you're absent. And, since there are only 15 of you, most importantly, I'll notice if you aren't here. You may be able to get away with blowing off your intro to psych lecture with 40 or 50 other students, but that won't fly here. I understand that things happen, so all I ask is you email me ahead of time if you know you'll be absent. I do take attendance and participation is a substantial portion of your grade, enough to make a difference between an A and B, so it would serve you well to come to class," she explains. "So, in the spirit of getting to know one another, let's go around and have everyone introduce themselves. Give us your name, intended major, where you're from, your res hall, why you chose this seminar, and something fun about you. Let's start up front here and work our way around."

 _Jesus Christ_ , Regina moans to herself as the first few eager freshman excitedly talk about how they're pre-med and are taking this class so they can better understand their patients of different backgrounds. She silently curses her mother and stepfather for not being able to get her out of this course requirement. They were able to circumnavigate several policies to get her admitted as a senior, but they couldn't waive this requirement. It's tedious. But, at least Mary-Margaret didn't sign up for this seminar…that's the only thing that would make this even worse.

Finally, she realizes it's her turn. To her mortification, she is indeed the only non-freshman in the class — there's not even a sophomore transfer student to help ease her embarrassment. "Regina Mills. Economics major. I'm from Maine," she says, not wanting to reveal that she's from this same small town, as it's too risky that someone will make the connection between her and her family. "I live off-campus. I'm taking this seminar because I'm a transfer student and my other coursework apparently didn't meet the diversity requirement, and this was the only one left that didn't conflict with my other classes I need to graduate this year."

"You're a senior?" the instructor asks with surprise.

"Yes," Regina confirms, ignoring the snickering from the freshmen in front of her.

"Oh," she says, and it's not at all judgmental like Regina would have expected. "And something fun about you?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Regina responds, narrowing her eyes at the blonde, silently telling her to drop it.

"Okay, then," Emma says, pushing herself off the desk and walking back toward the podium at the center of the room.

 ***.*.***

The first part of the 80-minute seminar is spent reviewing the syllabus and expectations for the course, which is nothing new to Regina. But much to her dismay, unlike most other college classes on the first day, Emma Swan does not let them leave as soon as she's done going over the syllabus. No, she's making them sit through a full class. "So, what does 'social inequality' mean to you?" she asks the class, and that's a loaded question if Regina has ever heard one.

Fortunately, a freshman in the front row raises her hand excitedly.

"Go ahead," Emma says, prompting the girl.

Regina tunes her out, as she finds the girls cheerful voice just as irritating as Mary-Margaret's.

It's a few minutes later when Regina hears those dreaded words spill from her instructor's mouth: "What about someone we haven't heard from yet…Regina?"

That pulls Regina's attention back to the front of the room. "What?"

"How do you feel about the points Nova made?"

Regina knows that Emma is aware that Regina hadn't been paying close enough attention. But, she's not about to give her the satisfaction of catching her off guard. "Honestly? I don't really have an opinion on it."

"Really?"

"What can I say? I'm pretty apathetic to this whole topic."

"Yes, that's fairly evident," Emma says, failing to hold back a hint of disdain and an eye roll.

"Excuse me?" Regina scoffs.

"Nova was discussing the instances of privilege she's witnessed on campus in the week since the freshmen moved in."

"Yeah, and I've been on campus for all of 45 minutes. My apologies that I don't have a strong opinion on privilege or whatever else you want to talk about. I haven't seen anything yet."

"You sure about that?" Emma challenges.

"Very. And frankly, this topic isn't really of interest to me. So perhaps the students who have been on campus long enough to have talked to more than five other people will have more to offer this discussion than I do," she responds. She hadn't planned to be quite so blunt, but it's her natural reaction when someone tries to confront her.

Emma turns back to Nova, who looks stunned by the discourse between her professor and fellow student. "Nova, would you like to continue what you were saying? Perhaps Miss Mills will be able to learn from your experiences," the blonde says, glancing to the back of the room and noticing the brunette's glare.

"Uh, sure…" the petite freshman responds in a small voice as she prepares to jump back into her example.

Regina leans back in her seat and glances up at the clock, silently counting down the remaining 15 minutes of class.

 ***.*.***

"Miss Mills, a word, please," Emma says as the students start shuffling out of the classroom.

The brunette rolls her eyes as she walks down the narrow aisle to the lectern at the front of the room. "Something I can help you with, Ms. Swan?" Regina asks, a perfect blend of sarcasm and saccharine.

"First of all, it's _Professor_ Swan—"

"Technically, you're not a professor yet, so it's not. You're still a graduate student. You haven't earned that title yet," Regina snarks. It's terribly rude, but not incorrect.

Emma chooses to ignore her student's counterpoint. "Secondly, you would do well to remember the rules of the seminar as outlined in the syllabus," she says, using her index finger to thump the paper sitting on the top of Regina's notebook. "Respect for your fellow students and your faculty is expected at all times."

"I was just trying to keep my head down and get by, but you're the one who went all Socratic Method and forced me to talk. You don't get to be pissed at me just because you don't like what I have to say."

"I'm not 'pissed.' You are free to disagree with what another student says, or with what I say. But, you must do so with decorum. If you want to succeed in this course, then you will also need to be open-minded about the content we're discussing. I'm trying to get you to think a little deeper beyond your clearly limited worldview."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regina asks, clearly offended.

"It means, Miss Mills, that you are not fooling anyone. You walked in here refusing to participate, wearing your Prada boots, Hermes scarf, and Burberry trench, and I'm fairly certain that's a Givenchy tote on your shoulder with the key fob for your Mercedes Benz hanging off the side. Your outfit costs more than what your classmates pay in rent for an entire semester, and your car costs more than their four years' of tuition. I'm guessing you probably haven't had a rough go of it in life, so this class might be particularly enlightening for you."

"You don't know anything about me, _Professor_. I would think that as a someone teaching a course about opening up one's perspectives, you would be a little less quick to judge."

Emma's taken aback by Regina's fortitude, but she quickly regroups. "I'm merely stating my observations."

"Well, maybe you should keep your own prejudices and assumptions to yourself. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Are you threatening me?"

Regina smiles sweetly and takes a step back, exaggerating the motion. "Of course not. I would never do that."

"Is there a problem here?" Cora Blanchard asks as she enters the classroom, as she's scheduled to teach her senior honors psychology seminar in the room in a few minutes.

Emma is quick to respond. "No, of course not, Dean Blanchard."

"No, Dean Blanchard," Regina parrots, looking at her mother with disdain before turning back to her instructor. "Now, if we're done here, I need to go to my next class. I would hate be disrespectful to the professor on the first day by arriving late."

Cora watches her daughter leave and turns back to Emma. "How is your first day going, Emma?"

"Aside from that," she says, gesturing to the door where Regina just exited, "it's been great."

"Is she causing problems for you?"

"No. Just another privileged student testing her boundaries."

Cora bites back a smirk. "Hmmm…Sounds about right."

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Let's hope you're right, dear."


	2. IV, V, VI, VII

**A/N** : Thank you for the follows, favorites and reviews! I realized I don't know how to count or my roman numeral skills are lacking, and so I lied in my A/N from yesterday. This fic is actually in 13 sections, not 12. So that means this update has 4 sections instead of only three. Enjoy vignettes IV-VII :)

* * *

 **IV.**

Two weeks pass by, and fortunately for both parties, there have only been minor verbal confrontations during class with Regina's most frustrating instructor. Emma has still been challenging Regina to participate in class, and Regina has been dishing it back with bitter sarcasm at every opportunity. If Regina is honest with herself, she almost enjoys the constant power play…especially when she feels like she's winning. And Emma doesn't back down easily, which makes it even more thrilling. Rarely anyone rises to her level of challenge.

As Emma hands out a test during the fourth week of the semester, she can't help but watch Regina with intrigue as the brunette works on her exam, a persuasive analytical essay on gender as a social construct. Unlike the other students who are hunched over their desks and writing furiously, Regina sits up straight and maintains her composure, taking her time as she puts pen to paper. She occasionally chews on the end of her blue pen cap, which seems awfully unrefined for the brunette. Emma thinks it makes her look almost like a normal student, instead of the pain in the ass enigma that she is.

Regina knows she's being watched. It's not hard to tell, as she's always had a knack for knowing when someone is staring at her — it was a common occurrence growing up in a small town as the child of two prominent local figures, especially given that she was rarely "home" due to her boarding school schedule. She often turned a lot of heads when she was back in town.

She takes a break from the exam to shake out her hand, as she's not used to writing this much all at once, and looks up as she massages the cramp in her palm. She raises an eyebrow in challenge at her blonde instructor, who she catches mid-stare. Regina deliberately brings her index finger to her mouth, delicately biting the end of her nail and running it across her lips as she looks back down at her paper as though she's in deep concentration. If Ms. Swan wants something to look at, she'll give it to her.

Emma quickly averts her eyes and looks at the rest of the class, awkwardly shifting in her seat before deciding to take a quick walk around the room, just to make sure everyone is keeping their eyes on their own paper.

As she makes her way down Regina's row, the brunette changes the cross of her legs, which is just enough movement that she knows she's captured Emma's attention. She looks up at the blonde as the woman approaches, smiling as she picks up her paper and holds it out toward her instructor. "All done, Ms. Swan."

Emma furrows her brow as she looks down at her Fitbit on her wrist, noting the time. Only 24 minutes have passed of the hour-long exam. "Already?"

"What can I say?" Regina smiles, noting the scoffs and scowls from her classmates, who are still working frantically to finish before the end of the class session. "May I be excused now?"

"Of course," Emma says, accepting the paper from Regina. "Have a good rest of your morning."

Regina smirks as she picks up her purse from where it hangs on the back of her desk chair. "Thank you," she says as she brushes past the blonde, exiting through the back door of the classroom and out into the crisp fall air.

As Emma grades the essay exams that evening, accompanied by a glass of pinot grigio, she frowns as she writes a red "D" on the top of Regina's first page. She scribbles down a note: _I'd highly recommend you make use of my office hours. You may be able to salvage your grade if you start taking this seriously and trying a little harder. If you're not willing to do the work, then drop the class so you don't fail. Your choice._

When the brunette storms up to the front of the room after their next class two days later, holding her nearly-failed exam in her hand, Emma braces herself for the verbal torrent she knows she's about to receive. She sits there and takes it, allows the younger woman to say her piece, surprised that Regina seems to exercise some self-restraint, stopping short of actually using profanity as she protests the grade.

"Are you done?" Emma asks, unamused. When the brunette just stands there, glaring, she continues. "Regina, I didn't even assign you a side to analyze. You could have argued that it wasn't a social construct and that would've been fine as long as you made a logical, well-reasoned argument. You didn't even remotely address the prompt."

"Well, it's a stupid prompt," she says, all but shoving the exam into Emma's hands.

"That's not really my problem, now is it?" Emma sasses back. "Look, Regina, you don't suck as a writer. Clearly you're capable of writing a high quality paper. So either you're intentionally blowing off the work in this class for some reason, or you are legitimately struggling with grasping the content. I can't help you if it's the former, but if it's the latter, I'm happy to work with you if you come to office hours."

Regina's blank expression stares back at Emma. She quickly casts her eyes down at the failed exam in Emma's hands, snatches it back, and storms out of the room.

* * *

 **V.**

"I must admit, I'm surprised you showed," Emma says the following Monday morning, looking up from the essay she's been grading.

Regina begrudgingly sits down across from her, placing her to-go cup of coffee on the table. "I said I would, didn't I?" she huffs as she shrugs off her black leather jacket. It's early October, and the temperatures have started to noticeably drop outside.

"You did," Emma nods, watching the other woman as she settles into the opposite chair.

"Nice office," Regina comments.

"Thanks," Emma deadpans.

It's not an office at all. As a graduate student, Emma doesn't get the luxury of having her own space on the small campus. Instead, she holds her office hours at the coffee shop a block away from campus on Main Street.

"Is there a particular topic you want to start with?" Emma asks before sipping her own coffee and putting the essay she had been reading back into her folder.

"Not really," Regina shrugs.

"Okay, well why don't you let me know what questions you have."

The brunette says nothing, just sips her coffee, her eyes focusing on a lone crumb on the table.

Emma sighs and runs a hand through her long blonde hair, her fingers getting tangled briefly in some of her curls. She can tell this is going to be like pulling teeth. "Okay….so why don't you tell me a bit more about you, then?"

Regina looks up, surprised by the suggestion. "What? Why?"

"Maybe it would help me figure out where your issues lie."

"I thought you were planning to be a sociologist, not a psychologist. I don't need to be psychoanalyzed," she says, her eyes narrowing. _I get enough of that from my mother_ , Regina thinks, but doesn't vocalize the addendum.

"I don't mean 'issues' like that. I mean issues with the course work."

"Oh," Regina says. "Sure, I guess…"

And so she tells her story, or a modified and abbreviated version of it, rather. She still refuses to reveal her familial relationship with the college president and dean.

"Wow, Harvard? Really?" Emma asks when the opportunity arises.

"Yep," Regina nods. "Really." She had debated whether to admit where she had spent the first three years of her undergraduate career, but she knows it would be easy enough for Emma to find out, if she really wanted to. Hell, all she would have to do is go and search for her on Facebook — Regina still hasn't updated her profile to reflect her new school…it's too embarrassing. She hopes that most of her Harvard acquaintances think that she is studying abroad or graduated early, and that the ones who know the truth will keep their mouths shut.

"Interesting. Why did you leave?"

"No reason," Regina says, grabbing a napkin off the table and tearing the sides until it resembles fringe.

Emma doesn't press the issue and instead changes the subject back to the matter at hand. "Okay. So, don't take this the wrong way, but it sounds like you've had a pretty limited experience in terms of who you've been around most of your life. Boarding school, ivy league college…you are clearly well off."

"That's not my fault."

"I know it's not. We can't help the circumstances we're born into, and it's not a bad thing, Regina. I'm not saying that it is. I'm simply saying that maybe you're struggling with the core concepts of the social inequality course because you haven't ever been faced with it."

"There were poor people at Harvard," she rebuts.

"I'm sure there were, but I'm guessing there were a lot of really wealthy people, too, and that you were running in different circles when you weren't in your economics and business classes. Am I wrong?"

Regina says nothing.

"I thought that might be the case."

"But that stupid test wasn't about socioeconomic issues. This is irrelevant," she protests, not liking that the blonde is calling her out.

"True, it wasn't directly, but it's still all part of the larger issue. Money doesn't solve every problem, but things like pay disparity based on gender, while still unfair when it happens in the six- or seven-figure salary range, can feel more dire to those living paycheck to paycheck. The option of being a stay-at-home or a working mother presents itself differently in different socioeconomic classes. The issues surrounding gender norms are different in different communities. And I'm guessing that your boarding school may not have gone into deep discussions on social issues, given that the administration probably wanted to keep the rich parents happy and tuition dollars flowing, and that many of them were quite conservative, am I wrong?"

"I fail to see how that—"

"That's exactly my point, Regina. We're all a product of our upbringing and our environment…I'm sure you're familiar with the nature versus nurture debate. It sounds like you may not have had the opportunity to be exposed to many people from backgrounds different than your own. You're always so quick to brush off the what the other students describe as their experiences. You need to be more open to listening when they talk about what they have seen and done in their lives. You might just learn something, enough that you wouldn't be failing my class."

* * *

 **VI.**

"Wait, seriously?" Regina laughs as she stabbed the graham cracker crust with her fork. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm deadly serious," Emma chuckles before sipping her hot chocolate. "His face was priceless."

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but we need to close," Ruby says as she clears off the table next to the one in the back corner where Emma and Regina have been camping out for hours.

"Oh, shit, I didn't even realize it was that late," Emma apologizes to the waitress. "We'll get out of your hair."

"No worries," Ruby smiles before flitting off to grab the mop from the janitorial closet in the back, moving to work on the floors behind the counter.

Regina looks down at her watch. "Oh, wow, it is late," she comments unnecessarily. "Anyway, thanks for meeting with me."

"Of course," Emma says, tossing her folders and book haphazardly into her tote bag. "But I'm not sure how much help I was. We got a little off-topic."

"True," Regina nods as she gathers her own materials. "But, it was a nice break from an otherwise intense subject. It's been nice to learn more about the woman behind Professor Swan," she teases. Somewhere over the course of meeting twice per week during Emma's office hours over the past month, they've managed to push past their mutual hostility and now enjoy one another's company.

"Happy to oblige." Emma smiles as she stands up and drops a twenty dollar bill on the table as a tip for Ruby. Her bill had been less than a third of that and she already paid it an hour earlier, but she has been occupying the table for hours and feels guilty.

Regina follows Emma out of the café, waving goodbye to Ruby as she steps out onto the sidewalk. "Thanks again," she says when they're outside, the late hour bringing on the feeling of winter on the mid-November night.

"You're welcome," Emma smiles. "Have a great Thanksgiving."

Regina watches as the blonde turns to head down the sidewalk. "Emma, wait," she calls after her as she toys with the keys in her hand.

She stops and turns around, hands firmly in her the pockets of her burgundy leather jacket to ward off the chill. "Yeah?"

"Would you like a ride home?"

"Oh, um…that's really not appropriate, Regina," Emma cautions, causing the brunette to roll her eyes.

"There have been an uptick in muggings and drunk college frat brothers trying to assault women out walking alone at night. I think it would be more inappropriate for me to let you walk home alone. Plus, it's freezing."

"I can call an Uber."

"It's the last night before students leave for Thanksgiving…I imagine all four of the Ubers in this town are probably busy giving students rides home from the Rabbit Hole. Just let me drive you. Or are you afraid I'll start stalking you if I know where you live?"

Now it's Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "Fine," she says as she begrudgingly walks back toward the brunette, opens the passenger door of the sleek black Mercedes, and gets inside.

* * *

 **VII.**

"So, are you ever going to tell me why you left Harvard right before your senior year?" Emma asks Regina one early December afternoon as they work in Dr. Charles Midas' office. Earlier that morning, Regina had refused to drop an argument she was having with another student in his class, so this is her punishment — reorganizing the past 15 years of his coursepacks. Emma, meanwhile, sits on the old brown leather couch in the corner, editing his newest paper for a journal submission. Dr. Midas is Emma's thesis advisor, and as she is his 'most promising' student, she's been awarded the honor of reviewing his manuscript. He is nowhere to be seen, but he trusts Emma to keep watch over the woman who he called 'the entitled delinquent' in his absence.

"There's not much to tell," Regina says as she digs through another file drawer.

"Somehow I doubt that. Most students don't leave their school a year before they graduate. And most colleges wouldn't accept a transfer student as a senior. Colleges generally like their students to actually take the majority of their coursework at the school from which they're earning their degree. You're taking what, maybe 24 semester hours this year? There's got to be a story there."

Regina tenses momentarily, but Emma doesn't catch it. She's too busy fixing a punctuation error in the paper in front of her. "Well, it is Harvard. Most colleges wouldn't argue with transfer credit from there... It's not like I would get more rigorous courses here," she says, before quickly adding, "and I took some classes here in summer school before leaving for college, so I have enough credits to make it work." Her words are partially true. She does have some existing credit, but her parents did pull some strings to get her graduation requirements modified, allowing her to use her Harvard courses as the majority of her degree to prevent delaying her graduation by a year.

"I see," Emma says, looking up from the article she's been annotating. "If I guess the reason, will you tell me if I'm right?"

Regina looks over from the filing cabinet, where she's currently elbow-deep in photocopies of old articles. "Why do you care so much?"

"I'm an academic. I'm inquisitive and like a good mystery. And something doesn't add up."

Regina shakes her head and resumes her mundane task. "You can guess, but it doesn't mean I'll confirm it."

"Fine….Cheating?"

"Never."

"Sick family member you need to care for?"

"Not even close."

"Illicit drug use?"

"No."

"Failing out?"

"I've never failed a course in my life."

"Well, my class isn't over yet, and there's always a first time for everything," Emma sasses before continuing her guessing game. "Sleeping with a professor?"

Regina's eyebrow raises at that. "No," she says, deliberately. "And frankly, highly inappropriate for you to even suggest that."

"Am I getting close with any of these?"

Regina shrugs. "Give me an A in your class and excuse me from all the remaining assignments and I'll tell you right now."

Emma blatantly ignores her attempt at negotiation. "Stealing?"

"No."

"I know you didn't drop out because you couldn't afford tuition anymore," Emma teases.

"Funny."

"Okay, I'm all out of ideas."

"Then, I guess you'll never know."

"Oh, come on."

Regina laughs. "Why is this so important to you?"

"I'm bored. I need a break from fixing Charlie's run-on sentences."

"Charlie? Do you actually call him that?"

"Not to his face, and if you say anything to him I'll deny it. And don't change the subject."

Regina puts the file in her hands in its rightful spot and turns around. "Would you believe me if I said I was making porn videos with a webcam in my dorm room?"

"No, I wouldn't. And I'm pretty sure that's not something they can expel you for anyway. That student at Duke never got in trouble for it. Freedom of speech and all that."

"You're right. That wasn't it," she says, slamming the open filing cabinet shut with her hip. "See you in class tomorrow, Ms. Swan."

* * *

 **A/N:** And to answer the question from several reviews: yes, you'll find out why Regina had to leave Harvard in the final installment ;) I'd love to hear your predictions. Do you think Emma actually correctly guessed?

I don't think I'll be able to post tomorrow, so part three will be up on Tuesday morning at the latest. The last chapter will then be up on Wednesday. Thanks for reading!


	3. VIII, IX, X

**VIII.**

The end of the semester comes in mid-December, leaving the small campus completely abandoned as students temporarily move out of the residence halls for the winter break to visit family, travel, or do whatever else one does in the harsh New England winter when the college shuts down. Regina finds herself saddened that the term is over, but she chalks it up to being stuck at the Blanchard mansion without an escape for the next three weeks, combined with a touch Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's most certainly not the lack of banter with a blonde faculty member she had come to appreciate more than she ever expected. Or the semi-erotic dream she had about the woman the night before her final exam. Absolutely not… or so she tells herself.

Fortunately for the college senior, her parents jet off to Aspen only four days after the end of the semester, promising to be back a few days after Christmas. "We'll celebrate then," they promise, as Mary-Margaret is spending Christmas with David's extended family in Iowa and would be coming back on the 27th. Leopold and Cora had encouraged Regina to join them in the Colorado mountains, but the thought of spending seven days with her parents in a small three bedroom ski lodge cabin was less appealing than being alone for Christmas in a sprawling mansion in a deserted town in the backwoods of Maine. She takes a hard pass on the offer, instead deciding that she'll use the opportunity to get a head start on studying for the GMAT, which she is scheduled to take just before spring semester begins in January, as well as working on her business school and job applications. Her hiccup with Harvard means that her MBA dreams will be pushed back a year, but she tries to tell herself that a year of real-world experience will only help her when she finally walks into Northwestern, or University of Chicago, or maybe UPenn or Stanford. (Harvard is clearly no longer an option, and she'll be damned if she doesn't go to a top five business school. She tells herself it'll make the decision-making process easier, only having four schools from which to choose with Harvard no longer in the running). Her parents buy her excuse for why she cannot join them, but they remind her of the rules, although they all know it isn't necessary. There is literally nothing to do in Storybrooke during winter break. Even Granny's Diner closes immediately after the dinner shift ends at 7pm.

It's on her third day of solitude as she's making her favorite hearty butternut squash lasagna that she finally feels the need to get out of the house. She hasn't spoken to anyone since her parents left for the airport, and she has to admit that she's going a little stir-crazy. But more importantly, it seems that her mother hasn't replaced the sage, and without that ingredient, the lasagna isn't worth eating. She throws the otherwise prepared lasagna in the refrigerator for safe keeping and grabs her car keys, heading over to the corner market.

The small store is nearly empty, which is a relief. She's hungry and doesn't want to wait in a long line to buy one small packet of fresh herbs. She detours on the way to the produce section, deciding that she could use a bottle of wine to go with her meal. Her parents have a fully-stocked cellar at home, but she would never hear the end of it if she wasted a bottle of Masseto on a dinner by herself. She browses the pinot noir section, her preferred varietal, regardless of whether a sommelier thinks it is an appropriate complement to her meal, and picks up an $18 bottle that will do just fine. As she turns around to head back toward the main part of the store, she nearly crashes into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologizes reflexively before even looking up.

"Oh, it's no … Regina, hey."

"Emma," Regina gasps, not expecting to see her former instructor in the wine aisle. "Hi."

"How are you?" the blonde asks, a friendly smile on her lips and a small shopping basket in the crook of her elbow.

"I'm doing well," she says. "And I saw that grades posted. Thanks for not failing me," Regina jokes. She had managed to pull off a B in the woman's course.

"You earned it. I know you hated taking a freshman seminar and felt like it was beneath you, but you grew a lot in that class, despite the rough start to the semester."

Regina smiles shyly and quickly changes the subject. "So, what are you still doing in town? I'm surprised you didn't leave Storybrooke like everyone else tends to do."

"I thought about it, but the friends I usually visit for Christmas are vacationing in Hawaii, and I can't swing that on my grad student budget right now," Emma confesses. "This town isn't that bad, though. And it's nice and quiet when all the students are gone. I like when it's just the locals. They're charming."

"You mean the townies?" Regina wrinkles her nose. 'Charming' wouldn't be the first word she thinks of when she thinks of townies. She should know; she's one of them.

Emma just laughs. "Yeah. This town has grown on me in the year and a half I've lived here."

"I see," Regina nods. "Any big plans then for your reprieve from students?"

"Not really. Probably catching up on my Netflix queue, and maybe some reading for fun. And honestly, probably working on my thesis. I'm not quite where I want to be on that, and I have to give Dr. Midas an updated draft of what I have as soon as spring semester starts."

"That sounds almost as much fun as my plan to spend winter break studying for the GMAT."

Emma winces in distaste. "I think they're equally as boring and depressing for the Christmas holiday."

"Very true," Regina says.

"Speaking of, why are you still in town? I figured you'd head back to visit your family."

"Oh," Regina replies. "I am actually from here."

"Really? How did I not know that? I knew you were from Maine, but I just assumed you were from somewhere else in the state, since you didn't say anything."

Regina bites her lip, still hesitant to reveal the identity of her parents. "Yeah, well, it's not something I like to advertise," is what she decides is still a vague enough reply.

"Ah," Emma nods. "Well, it's nice that you don't have far to travel to see your family."

"Yeah," Regina agrees, neglecting to mention that she's not actually spending the holiday with them. She knows Emma grew up in the system and never had parents of her own — it's something that came up during one of their office hours sessions, when Regina had asked her about her thesis topic. The blonde mentioned her analysis of the foster system and revealed her own status as a foster kid who aged out of the system. So, Regina would feel guilty admitting that she passed up the opportunity to spend Christmas with her own parents.

"So, what are you up to?" Regina asks, eyeing the case of Miller Lite in the blonde's free hand. "Throwing a raging party?"

She laughs. "I wish. No, just picking up some beer to last me through break, and then hitting up the hot food bar to get some dinner before going to get started on my Netflix backlog."

"That's pathetic," Regina says before she can filter herself. At Emma's look of surprise, and possibly offense, she frowns and quickly self-corrects. "I'm sorry, I just mean…no, I stand by what I said. It's pathetic. The hot food bar here isn't even good," Regina cringes. She's not opposed to ready-to-eat grocery store food on principle, and she even misses living across the street from Whole Foods where she would pick up a to-go container of dinner after her late study sessions when she was too tired to cook. But the options at Second Avenue Foods are questionable at best. "Who knows how long that stuff has been sitting out? Especially since the town's population just decreased by 75% with the campus closing for break. You'll probably get salmonella just walking past the food bar."

"It's not quite that bad," Emma rolls her eyes. "And I'm a terrible cook and can't do take out from Granny's for a third night in a row. I always feel like she's judging me when I go to pick up my order."

"Then join me for dinner. I have a lasagna almost fully prepped at home. I just realized we were out of a few key ingredients and I wanted to pick up some wine to go with it," she says, holding up the bottle in her hand.

"Seriously?" Emma asks, equal parts nervous and surprised.

"Why not? It's more food than I can possibly eat on my own, even if I have it for leftovers every day for the next week. I could use the help."

Emma smiles despite herself. "Then, sure. That sounds great."

"Perfect. I just have to pick up one more thing but I can meet you by the entrance and you can follow me over," Regina says, waving Emma off before the blonde can change her mind and hurrying to go find the needed sage for her pasta sauce. Unfortunately, Second Avenue Foods is no Whole Foods, so there are no fresh herbs in sight. She reluctantly picks up a container of dried sage from the spice aisle, quickly pays the cashier, and finds Emma waiting for her at the front of the store. "I half expected you to bail," she comments honestly as they walk toward the parking lot.

"The promise of lasagna is too good an offer to pass up."

"Just wait until you actually taste it," Regina smirks as she sets the plastic bag down in her passenger seat. She raises an eyebrow as she sees Emma open the driver's side door to the yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked next to her. "Bold choice," she comments.

Emma rolls her eyes. "So, where am I going?"

"Just follow me. It's only a few minutes away."

* * *

 **IX.**

Regina slowly pulls into the detached garage behind her house, checking her rearview mirror to make sure that she's still being followed. She sees the tell-tale round headlights of the Bug pull into the long driveway off the back alley before the lights die off and the blonde emerges from the car, barely visible in the winter darkness and illuminated only by the soft glow of the streetlamp.

"Jesus. You live here?" Emma asks as she looks up at the large white Colonial. Even from the back it's impressive.

"Yep," Regina says.

"I figured you'd live in an apartment or something. Just how rich are you?" Emma teases, but she's only half-joking. She knows Regina is wealthy, but she didn't realize she's 'owning a mansion at age 22' wealthy.

"It's my parents' house," she offers by way of explanation, leading the blonde through the back garden next to the garage so they can head toward the house and get out of the freezing temperatures.

"Well, it's lovely," Emma says, feeling slightly embarrassed by her earlier outburst of shock.

"Thanks," she replies, holding the door open for the blonde and ushering her inside. She kicks off her boots and shrugs off her Canada Goose parka as soon as the door closes behind her, tossing it on top of the laundry machine in the mud room. Emma does the same, and Regina guides her guest into the kitchen. She sets the bottle of wine she purchased on the large island, and tells Emma to take a seat, that it will only take her a few minutes to finish prepping the sauce for the lasagna. She heads to the refrigerator to take out the lasagna and remaining ingredients, stopping briefly to preheat the oven on the way.

"So are your parents here?" Emma asks, suddenly a little sketched out about being in her former student's parents' house. It was bad enough when she thought she was going to the woman's apartment, but this has the potential to be extra awkward.

"No. They're out of town skiing, actually," she answers with an eye roll.

"Oh. Well, anything I can do to help?" Emma asks, wanting to feel useful and not like she's bumming dinner off one of her former students.

"You can open the wine, if you'd like. Glasses are in the top left cabinet, corkscrew in the center drawer," she answers, frowning as she mixes the dried sage into the creamy base she made earlier. It's just not the same as the fresh herb would be, but it will have to do.

"Here you go," Emma says, handing her a glass of wine after the brunette places the dish in the oven.

She smiles as she takes it, immediately sipping it and enjoying the taste. As she sets the glass back down, she notices the blonde staring at her. "What?" she asks, growing anxious.

"Nothing," the woman says quickly.

Regina raises an eyebrow, not buying the quick dismissal.

Emma bites her lip, hesitating before she voices her thoughts. "It's just a bit of cognitive dissonance."

"How so?" Regina asks, taking another sip of her wine.

"It just caught me off guard all of a sudden. You were always so polished in class, and I don't think I've even seen you wear a sweatshirt before, let alone leggings. And I never took you as someone who would be so meticulous and interested in cooking. I'm just trying to reconcile the two Reginas in my head," Emma explains. She hadn't noticed in the store since they were still in their winter coats, but now that she had been watching the woman prepare their meal, she was intrigued by the more relaxed version of the student.

Regina slowly nods, taking it in. "I see," she says, suddenly self-conscious.

"Sorry. Please don't take that the wrong way. It's not a bad thing."

Regina shrugs. "I'm not offended. But in my defense, I really had no intention of interacting with anyone other than the market cashier tonight. Had I known, I probably would have put on real clothes."

Emma chuckles, relieved that she hasn't completely insulted Regina. "Well, you pull it off well."

"Thanks," she rolls her eyes as she takes another drink of her wine. "So, we still have at least another 40 minutes for the lasagna to be done. Did you want to watch Netflix or something while we wait?"

Emma smiles. "That sounds great. Lead the way."

* * *

 **X.**

It's three days later and Emma finds herself once again sprawled out on Regina's living room sofa, a bowl of popcorn resting in her lap as the brunette sits on the floor in front of the couch, blindly reaching her hand over her head for a handful of popcorn. Occasionally she misses and grazes the blonde's thigh or abdomen when she fumbles for the bowl, but neither woman chooses to acknowledge it.

This is the fourth night in a row they've had a movie night. The first had been that night at Regina's place over plates of lasagna. At the end of the night, Emma had made the startling realization Regina had been hoping to avoid: _"Wait, why are there photos of President and Dean Blanchard on your mantle?"_ Emma had asked when she got up to help Regina put away their dishes. Regina then had to reveal the truth about her family, causing Emma to clam up and quickly excuse herself. She had already been feeling uncomfortable about hanging out with a former student, but the daughter of the president and the dean made it even worse in her mind. She had no right to be in their home without their permission.

But, the next night Emma had been bored, as literally no one else was in town. She had emailed Regina, as they had never exchanged phone numbers, to see if she wanted to watch the next movie in the series they had started. Regina had been more than willing, but Emma had insisted Regina come to her apartment, because the thought of being back in the Blanchard household creeped her out. (In hindsight, she knows it was probably not any better to invite the president and dean's daughter over to her apartment instead, but they were both bored without any friends around for the holiday, and it was only a movie). That had worked well until they both lamented the fact that Emma's 24-inch TV was nothing compared to the massive flat screen in the Blanchard's living room. Against her better judgement, on night three Emma had returned to the college president's house, impropriety be damned.

On that first night during dinner they had planned to watch cheesy holiday-themed Hallmark movies, but they started to go for slasher flicks instead when they discovered their shared interest in Freddie Krueger. It had seemed like a great idea at first to start working their way through the franchise, until a particularly powerful gust of wind from the roaring blizzard outside knocked a tree branch into the side of the house on their third night of movie watching, causing both women to scream and Regina to end up nearly in Emma's lap. Days — and months, if they're being honest — of tension finally hit the breaking point with that stray tree limb, and when Regina found herself so close to Emma, she couldn't help but lean in and softly kiss the blonde. Emma had reciprocated until another gust of wind howled loud enough to get her attention. She had quickly stood up and moved off the sofa, looking out the window at the quickly accumulating snow. _"I should go before it gets any worse,"_ she had said. Regina nodded her agreement as she peeked through the opposite window, but by the time the blonde started walking down the sidewalk, they both quickly realized there was no way her Volkswagen Beetle was going to make it through the foot and a half of snow. Regina had offered to let Emma stay in one of the guest rooms, which the blonde had graciously accepted, but it was irrelevant — they both ended up staying in the living room, deciding to continue their _Nightmare on Elm Street_ marathon and passing out a little after 3am on opposite ends of the couch.

When the morning came, neither woman had acknowledged the kiss from the night before, instead working through the awkwardness until they resumed some sense of normalcy while eating cereal that morning. The snow had continued to fall all day, meaning that Emma was again captive in the Blanchard house. Knowing that they still had five more movies in the franchise to get through, they had started early, as they had nothing better to do. It's Christmas Eve and neither had anywhere else to be.

It had been nearly eight in the evening before Regina realized her parents hadn't even called to check-in. She had one vague "Merry Christmas Eve" text from Mary-Margaret, with an attached photo of her with David kissing under the mistletoe. Emma had seen the photo over Regina's shoulder and crinkled her nose in distaste. _"How cliché_ ," she had said, causing Regina to chuckle in agreement.

So, here they are, back in the comfort of the habit they had developed over the previous few days, but very much aware that they are on the final movie of the series — the terrible remake of the original classic. The snow has started to slow, but neither woman really wants it to end. "So…" Regina says as the movie enters its final half hour. "I know the roads are probably clear, but if you want to crash here again tonight, you're welcome to." She hopes she sounds casual.

"Oh," Emma replies. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Regina shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Well, the invitation is open. I don't have any other plans, so if you want to spend Christmas here, you can. We can always start _Friday the 13_ _th_."

"Ooo, that is tempting," Emma smirks, glancing down at the brunette whose head is turned to look at her. When Regina refocuses her attention on the television, Emma speaks up. "So before I agree to anything, are we going to continue to ignore the elephant in the room?"

"I thought we were doing a pretty good job of it thus far," Regina comments.

"You kissed me."

"I did," she confirms. "And you kissed me back."

"This is true."

"Yep."

And thus the awkward silence continues.

* * *

 **A/N:** One last installment to come tomorrow, when it all comes to a head and all is revealed. Thanks again for reading!


	4. XI, XII, XIII

**XI.**

"Regina?" a voice calls to her the morning after Christmas. She thinks she may be hearing things, as she's admittedly still hungover from the wine she had the night before. Emma had insisted they make a traditional Christmas dinner, minus the ham since Regina's a vegetarian and Emma still doesn't eat swine, thanks to one of the foster families she had lived with for six months in her late teens who had kept Kosher. She never regained the taste for pork after living with the rabbi's family. That left a sorry excuse of a green bean and fried onion casserole, some cranberry sauce from a can, and roasted sweet potatoes to make up most of the meal — it was surprisingly okay, probably because of the copious amounts of Riesling they guzzled down that night. They had finally managed to watch an actual Christmas movie instead of something more suited for Halloween earlier in the afternoon, and in lieu of opening gifts, since neither had any, they had gone for an at-home spa experience, complete with face masks, massages, and giving each other manicures.

"Ugh," she hears the voice next to her mumble and feels someone kick her, and that's when she realizes she's not alone. She doesn't remember much of the night after the apple pie she had made for dessert, but it's starting to come together in her mind as she turns over and sees the blonde mane sharing the lone pillow on her single bed.

"Emma?" she whispers to herself, as if there's a question as to the identity of her bedmate. She moves her hand under the blanket to check her own state of dress, or undress, as it were.

"Ow, that's my boob," Emma mumbles into the pillow when Regina accidentally elbows her as she attempts to adjust herself. She realizes at that moment that Emma is not wearing any clothing, and a second later she confirms that the same can be said for herself when she runs a hand across her body to check, and all she feels is bare skin.

 _Shit_.

"Regina? Are you up there?" she hears the voice again and that's when she remembers why she woke up in the first place. The unmistakable timbre of Cora Blanchard calling her name.

"Fuck, Emma!" she whispers harshly.

"Give me a minute to wake up, and then sure," comes the sleepy reply. "Or get started without me."

"What? No, Emma, get up," she reiterates, pushing the blonde away from her. "My parents are home."

That wakes up the blonde, who sits up suddenly, the sheets pooling at her waist. It's then that Regina starts to recall exactly what happened the night before as the memories rush back to her: memories of them taking turns setting up camp between the other's thighs and the amount of time she spent worshipping the blonde's breasts. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the fuchsia bullet next to Emma's hip. She remembers the blonde using it on her, teasing her until the battery ran out at an inopportune time and Emma mercifully taking pity on her and finishing her of herself. She can't help but blush, but Emma's words pull her out of her memory. "What? God damn it. This is like high school all over again. Why are your parents back?"

"I have no idea. They said they wouldn't be back until tomorrow…wait, today is the 26th, right? We didn't get so drunk that we slept through an entire day, did we?"

Emma rolls her eyes as she reaches around the other side of the bed, finding her discarded underwear on the floor and picking them up. "No, it's…" she checks her watch, "11am on the 26th," Emma confirms as she slips her panties on under the covers. As she reaches to pick up her bra from where it's hanging from the post of the footboard, the door opens without further warning.

"Regina, why didn't you— oh my God! Miss Swan?" Cora shouts in alarm as she stands in the doorway. She quickly turns her head to shield her eyes. "Regina!"

"Good morning, Mother. You're back early."

* * *

 **XII.**

"Oh God, I'm so going to be fired and kicked out of grad school," Emma says as she paces around Regina's room while the brunette gets dressed. Cora had promptly told them they had five minutes to make themselves presentable and to be at the dining room table to 'discuss this indiscretion.'

"No you won't," Regina reassures as she pulls on a pair of leggings and starts to dig around her dresser for a tank top.

"I can't believe I fucked my boss' daughter, and in her own house."

"My mother isn't your boss."

"No, you're right. She's my boss' boss. That's so much worse."

Regina doesn't bother responding to that. "Look, I'll take the blame for it. You won't be fired or expelled or whatever. I won't let that happen."

"I appreciate the gesture, but it's against the college's rules. You aren't going to have a say in this. I'm so done."

"You're not my professor anymore, Emma," Regina says, "so it's not a blatant violation of any of the policies. I'm well over the age of consent. We'll just explain the situation, blame it on too much wine, and I'll make it very clear that I pursued you and that you didn't take advantage of me."

"Shit," Emma sighs again.

The brunette finishes pulling on her tank top and walks over to other woman, who has finally stopped pacing, but only so she can lean back against the wall in resignation. Her eyes are closed, but Regina knows that she's probably fighting back tears, knowing that her career might be over before it really even had the chance to begin. Regina knows that feeling all too well.

"Emma," she says, taking a chance as she brings her hand to cup the woman's cheek, her other seeking out the blonde's hand by her side. When the green eyes don't open, Regina leans in and softly kisses her. It feels much different than their previous kisses, which were the result of built up tension coming to a boiling point in the moment, or liquor-fueled passionate exchanges to scratch an itch. This one is tender and heavy with meaning: support, encouragement, and maybe something else that Regina tries not to think about. The blonde's eyes flutter open as Regina pulls back, and Regina squeezes the hand she's still holding gently as she says, "Let's go face the firing squad," hoping that her attempt at humor doesn't reveal the panic she's also feeling internally.

Emma pushes herself off the wall, letting Regina guide her out of the bedroom by their still-connected hands. She hopes Regina can't feel how clammy her hand is, as her anxiety continues to build with each step she takes.

Regina may look collected and calm on the outside, but her heart is pounding in her chest as she lets go of Emma's hand as they start to walk down the stairs. "Let me do the talking," she says quietly to the blonde behind her as they finish their descent.

"Gladly," Emma mumbles in response, letting herself fall a few paces behind the dean's daughter, hoping the physical space between them now might help erase what Cora Blanchard witnessed earlier in the morning.

As they turn the corner into the dining room, they find both college administrators sitting at the far end of the large mahogany table, each with a steaming cup of untouched coffee in front of them and a large tray of croissants sitting in the center of the table. Two empty mugs and a carafe sit at the opposite end of the table, and the two women wordlessly take their seats. Regina quickly pours the coffee, emptying a packet of sugar into Emma's without being asked, as she had learned a few things from the previous two mornings they spent together, before handing it to the blonde. This earns an eyebrow raise from Leopold at the other end of the table, but neither of the two young women notice, as they're too focused on their own nerves.

"Thanks," Emma says quietly as she takes a sip, refusing to look over at Regina's parents.

"Ahem," Cora clears her throat, causing both women to finally face the moment they've been dreading.

"I'm sorry," Emma blurts out, earning a kick under the table and a glare from Regina.

"Emma," she hisses quietly. "Let me handle this."

"Sorry," she says again. "It's a reflex from my time in the system. I don't like confrontation with authority."

Regina's expression softens at that. "Mother, I can explain…" she starts, turning toward her parents, but Cora doesn't let Regina say anything else.

"I don't want to hear your explanation, Regina," Cora states. "History seems to be repeating itself, does it not?"

Regina looks down at her coffee cup, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic and trying to draw comfort from it. She catches Emma's eye, who is looking at her curiously.

"What…" Emma starts, but stops herself when she sees Regina visibly deflate. Only a few words from Cora has the usually confident woman cowering in her seat.

"Must you always cause trouble wherever you go, Regina?" Cora continues. "You think of no one but yourself. Your actions have consequences. We thought you would have learned your lesson after what happened at Harvard."

"Harvard?" Emma asks no one in particular, and her question is ignored as Cora continues her rant.

"But clearly you manage to do even more damage here. And that's not even addressing the poor judgment of Miss Swan here and what she's done."

"It's not her fault," Regina interjects. "She didn't do anything."

"That's not what it looked like to me. And, well, it certainly takes two," Cora says. "I doubt she's innocent in this entire situation."

Regina can't help but roll her eyes. "I just meant she didn't do anything wrong, Mother. And we're both adults. I'm not in her class anymore."

"You expect me to believe that this was the first time this has happened?"

"Yes," Regina and Emma both answer quickly.

Regina fidgets uncomfortably under the gaze of her mother, who is silently demanding answers. "Last night was the only time. Emma and I ran into each other the other day at the market and she came over for dinner and a movie when we realized that we were both spending break by ourselves. We hung out a few more times, and she stayed on the couch the last few nights because of the blizzard. Then last night we had a lot of wine and one thing led to another, I guess."

"You guess?" Cora deadpans, and Regina just shrugs. "I'm supposed to feel better about my concerns regarding both of your abilities to exercise good judgement because you got drunk and decided that this was okay?"

"I promise you, Dean Blanchard, President Blanchard," Emma says, addressing Leopold who has yet to speak, "nothing ever happened while Regina was in my class. I would never cross that line."

"But two weeks later, it's suddenly okay?" Cora asks.

"No, not really, but like Regina said, we're both adults and she's no longer in any of my classes. We're only a few years apart in age and this town is small. It's not like we wouldn't have eventually crossed paths at a bar or something."

"And tell me, Miss Swan, are you in the habit of bringing home random college girls you meet down at The Rabbit Hole?" Cora asks.

"I don't think you're legally allowed to ask her about her sex life, Mother," Regina points out.

"I can if she's sleeping her way through the student body."

"I'm not!" Emma is quick to defend herself. "I haven't. And I wouldn't. I just meant that even if she hadn't been in my class, we easily could have still met each other. This doesn't need to be that big of deal. That's all."

Cora scoffs. "That's the argument you're going to make, Miss Swan? Couldn't you also meet any number of your students down at the bar, by your logic? Is that going to be your defense every time this happens in the future?"

Emma feels her pulse quicken under the scrutiny of Cora's interrogation. "No, that's not…most of my students are freshmen, so they wouldn't even be in the bar. They're too young."

"Not helping," Regina coughs under her breath.

Emma shakes her head as she tries to refocus her defense. "This isn't a habit I'm planning on repeating. It was a one-time thing."

"So my daughter was just a one-night stand and a warm bed to protect you against the blizzard? Is that it?"

If Emma didn't know better, she would think Cora is enjoying this. The woman has a malevolent glint in her eye that she finds very unsettling. "I…no. I mean, yes… I…"

"Please, Mother," Regina interjects, trying to save the woman across from her from doing any more damage. She recognizes her mother's go-to tactic to make the blonde as uncomfortable as humanly possible in order to come out on top. "You've been working at the college for decades. Don't be such a prude. You know perfectly well that young people often have sex outside the confines of a relationship. Emma and I both knew what it was before it happened," she says, fidgeting slightly in her chair.

"Right," Emma confirms.

"And yet you still thought it was a good idea to sleep with your student, Miss Swan?"

"Former student," Regina and Emma say simultaneously, sharing a smirk when their voices overlap.

Cora ignores it. "And you, Regina, you thought it was okay to bring your _former_ professor into our home, while we were out of town, to play house for a few days and have sex with her in your childhood bedroom?"

Both Emma and Regina shift uncomfortably at that. "It wouldn't have been my first choice of location, but there weren't a lot of options since you mandated that I live here this year."

"Yes, well, clearly that was the right call, given your poor decision-making skills. God only knows who you would have been bringing home all semester if you had some privacy," Cora wrinkles her nose in distaste.

"I feel like I should be offended by that," Emma mumbles under her breath. Regina barely hears her and snickers.

"Look, Mother, this has been a delightful conversation, but can we get to the conclusion a bit faster here? I'm rapidly losing interest in your thesis."

Emma has to bite back a smirk at Regina's ability to so casually use academic metaphors to sass her mother. Cora, on the other hand, does not look amused by Regina's wordplay.

"Well, officially, you are correct in that you have not broken any written rules of the university, as Miss Swan here is no longer in a position of academic authority over you."

They both release a collective sigh of relief, which is quickly cut off when Cora continues to speak.

"However, that doesn't mean there won't be consequences for your reckless behavior in my house."

* * *

 **XIII.**

"Well, that could have been worse, I guess," Emma says. She's not fired or expelled, but she's been assigned to serve as Cora's personal gopher for the next semester as an unpaid TA. She knows the older woman is going to make her life a living hell. And Regina isn't getting of scot free, either. Cora has assigned her to do grunt work in Leopold's office for the duration of her time at Storybrooke College.

"I'm sorry, Emma," Regina replies as they are left to clean up after the uncomfortable lecture they both received.

"It's not your fault. As your mother said, 'it takes two.' It's not like I was an unwilling participant," Emma replies as she rinses out the last coffee mug and gets started on disassembling the French press.

"I know. I'm not sorry for that, if I'm being honest…from what I remember, it was totally worth it," a light blush tints her cheeks with her words. "I meant I'm sorry about my mother. And Leo, by proxy."

"Is it weird he didn't say anything?" Emma asks, her voice lowered so they aren't overheard, even though Regina's parents retired to their bedroom to unpack from their ski trip. "I mean, he's the president of the college, I would have thought he would have something to say about it."

Regina shakes her head. "He was probably uncomfortable, truthfully."

"Did he already know that you're…a lesbian?" Emma asks, somewhat uncertain. She realizes that although they slept together, she doesn't know how Regina identifies, and they were both intoxicated. For all she knows, Regina hadn't been with a woman before. Although, Emma's memory is a bit more clear than Regina's, and she certainly assumes the other woman has at least some experience, based on her performance last night.

"Oh, yeah. They've both known since I was in high school and came out to them my junior year. They're cool with it."

"Oh…good."

"He's probably just weirded out because you're a grad student and teaching classes, so that makes him your boss in a way, and generally a male boss talking to an employee about her sex life, even when said employee is caught in bed with his stepdaughter…"

"Yeah, got it. Makes sense," Emma cringes.

"But, regardless, I'm not surprised he didn't say anything. He's very assertive when he needs to be for his job, but here he's like a puppy. My mother definitely runs things here. Plus, even though he raised me for most of my life, I think he is still cautious about overstepping, especially after I changed my name back to my father's."

"Oh, I was wondering about that. I thought maybe you just used it so no one would know you're a Blanchard."

"I'm _not_ a Blanchard," Regina clarifies. "Leopold is fine and he's always been nice to me, but he's always favored Mary-Margaret. As he should…she's his biological daughter. His first wife died shortly after giving birth, so he raised her by himself until she was four and he married my mother. I was only three when my dad died and seven when my mother married Leo, but I was apparently very stubborn even as a kid and refused to let anyone else take that place. She didn't ask me before he legally adopted me a year later and changed my name. So, I changed it back as soon as I was old enough as an act of teen rebellion."

"Wow," Emma comments.

"Yeah. My mother was pissed. Leopold seemed to understand, at least on some level, and wasn't overly offended by it. We seem to have reached an unspoken agreement and mutual respect of leaving each other to live our lives. And as I'm sure you've guessed by now, he did pull rank and was able to make it so I could transfer in as a senior and still graduate on time. Anywhere else I would have lost at least a year's worth of credits during the transfer process, so I'm grateful to him for that."

"Yeah, about that," Emma says, setting the towel down and resting her back against the counter. She crosses her arms and tries to look demanding. "I think it's time you told me about what the hell happened at Harvard."

Regina raises an eyebrow as she smirks, resting one hand on her hip and the other on the island. "Oh you do, do you?"

"I pointblank asked you if you got kicked out for sleeping with a professor, and you said no. And yet your mother said that history is repeating itself…was I just another faculty conquest?"

"You did ask me, and I did say no, because I never slept with a professor. Or a TA. Or anyone who could possibly be considered faculty. That title goes only to you, Emma. Last night wasn't about some academia fetish."

"Oh…then what was she insinuating?"

Regina sighs. "I…"

"Look, Regina, if you really don't want to tell me, you don't have to. It's not like we're in a relationship. I was just pissed when I thought you lied to me about it, or that me being your former professor was the only reason…"

"Wow. You really think highly of me, don't you?" Regina says with a despondent chuckle, the hurt evident on her features.

"Regina, no, that's not what I meant," she apologizes. "I never thought that until Cora said what she said. It gave me pause, yes. But you said it isn't true, and I believe you."

"I never meant for last night to happen. The past few days weren't some evil ploy to seduce you."

"I know."

"I enjoyed hanging out with you. I haven't really been able to have much of a social life since I moved back, obviously," she says, gesturing around her. "It's not like I can throw parties or even have friends over while living here. It's lonely. It was nice to have a bit of normalcy for a few days while they were off spending Christmas in Aspen."

"For what it's worth, I enjoyed it too," Emma smiles shyly, and for the first time since they left the safety of Regina's bedroom that morning, she walks over to the younger woman and pulls her into her. She only hugs her, not wanting to cross any lines, but she smiles when she feels Regina's arms wrap around her waist.

"If you really want to know about Harvard, I'll tell you," Regina tells her, but it's muffled, as she's buried her face into the blonde's neck.

"You really don't have to if you don't want to," Emma states. "I didn't mean to make it into a big deal."

"It's fine," Regina says, pulling back from the embrace and resting against the kitchen island once again. "It's just embarrassing."

"Okay…"

"I didn't sleep with a faculty member, but it does involve sex."

"Well you said you weren't making webcam videos, so…"

Regina chuckles a bit. "No, I definitely wasn't. I just slept with the wrong person."

"What?" Emma frowns. "What does that even mean? Who did you sleep with?"

Regina sighs. "It was the end of my junior year — last spring — and one of my really good friends had just turned 21, so we were celebrating at this wine bar in Boston. We were drunk and so we ended up going to another bar nearby. It's one of those where they don't really check IDs that closely, and as long as you're not drinking, they don't care if you're not 21. It's also a bit sketchy and a place I would never go if I was sober. Anyway, we were there for awhile and then a few of us stayed even after the birthday girl was too drunk to continue and a few friends took her home. We ended up meeting this group of girls who said they were freshmen from Emerson. We didn't think anything of it. I ended up hooking up with one of the girls. We messed around a bit in the bathroom of the bar, and then she invited me back to her hotel. I should have realized that it was weird that she was staying in a hotel, but she just said that her apartment was being fumigated, so she was crashing there for a few days. I bought it. Until the next morning, when her parents came in and found us."

"Her parents?" Emma asks.

"Yep. It was her hotel room, but her parents were staying two doors down, and apparently had a room key. Her whole story was a lie. She was a high school senior in town for Harvard's preview weekend so she could visit campus. She and a few other high school girls she met escaped their 'uppity and boring' student hosts by pretending to be sick and snuck out to the bar, pretending to be students from another college. She didn't expect her parents to come by her room, because she was supposed to be staying with her host student in the girl's dorm room for that night. But I guess the student she was assigned to called her parents to see if she was feeling better and would be coming back for the morning breakfast, and that's when they knew something was up and barged into her room, finding us in a very compromising position."

"Oh God. Wait, you said high school…how old was she?"

"Eighteen. Thankfully."

"Okay, but then why did that get you expelled?"

"Oh, well that's the kicker. Of all the girls in the group, I picked the granddaughter of a very powerful — and very religious and conservative, mind you — member of the university's Board of Trustees, who also happened to be staying on the same floor of the hotel to visit his daughter and granddaughter."

"Shit."

"Yep. He walked by the room on his way to a meeting he had early that morning, just in time to catch the tail end of our argument. Fortunately, I at least had the bedspread pulled over me by that point. Needless to say, once he realized what happened, he demanded that I be removed from the university immediately."

"He could do that?"

"Apparently. I mean, not officially, but he has a lot of power and _a lot_ of money. The administration very strongly recommended that I transfer and go quietly, as they didn't want to cause a scandal. And I knew that they could make everything very difficult for me for my final year if I stayed. They also pointed out that it would disgrace Storybrooke College, because to have the president and dean's daughter gallivanting around with a high school senior…"

"Got it."

"Yeah. It turns out that as much clout as my parents have, they're just small fish in the large Harvard pond. I tried to fight it and didn't want to leave, especially because the bitch lied to me so I had no idea who she really was, but that didn't matter. So, she's living her best life as a carefree Harvard freshman right now, while I'm stuck back in my childhood bedroom."

"Wow. That sucks."

"Yeah…" Regina sighs. "So, that's how I ended up back here in this lame town and my parents' college, instead of graduating from Harvard and going straight into their MBA program."

Emma takes a step toward her at that point, closing the distance between them as she cups her hand around the back of Regina's neck, softly running her fingers up into the brunette's hairline and back down again as she searches her eyes. "Well, for what it's worth, I for one am glad you got yourself banished to this little lame town."

"Yeah?" Regina smirks, looking up at the other woman.

Emma tugs Regina forward until their torsos are flush against one another and there's just a breadth's distance between their lips. Emma leans in until she can graze the brunette's lips with her own, before pulling back. "Yeah, I really am."

 **FIN.**

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! This was the shortest complete SQ fic I've written/first one shot (even though it was broken into sections), and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Once I finish _A New Exploration_ (which will be soon, I promise!) I'm planning on writing some more one shots, as well as a new multi-chapter fic. This was originally going to be part of an anthology of one shots, but for now I'm posting them individually as I write them. They'll all be titled with song titles/lyrics, so keep an eye out for more and subscribe if you'd like. :)


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